Unfair Disadvantage
by keru.m
Summary: Harm doesn't really stand a chance, not when she's standing in front of him looking like that.


Disclaimer: I don't own'em

A/N: No plot or purpose at all, so don't look for such things here. This is just me stretching them literary muscles.

**-- **

**Unfair Disadvantage **

In his defence, Harm was trying his best not to stare. However, she did have him at a decidedly unfair disadvantage in this situation. She was, after all, beautiful. Not just run-of-the-mill beautiful. Definitely not. She was the kind of beautiful that made mouths go dry and hearts skip beats; the kind of beautiful that people spent a lifetime trying to capture in wood and stone and paint. She was _that_ kind of beautiful.

He had, over the years of knowing her, of working and travelling with her, and of just being around her so much of the time, acquired a rather impressive degree of fortitude in the face of her singular beauty. It had been a very long time since he had wanted to go out of his way just to make her smile and hear her laugh. In fact, he had in some ways inured himself to how her smile made the sunlight dance and her laughter made the air sing.

Acquiring resistance had not been an easy feat. It had taken training and determination. Like developing immunity to arsenic, it had taken a very long time of indulging in very very small doses. It also helped that he had known his fair share of beautiful women. He thought he had developed a fairly advanced degree of invulnerability.

He was so very very wrong.

Sarah MacKenzie in uniform, he could handle.

Sarah MacKenzie in civvies, he could handle.

Sarah MacKenzie in cowboy pyjamas, he could handle.

Sarah MacKenzie in a white nightgown, he could handle – barely.

Sarah MacKenzie in nothing but a towel, he most definitely could not handle.

What was a person supposed to do when _that _kind of beautiful walked out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and water droplets and absolutely nothing else? What the hell was he supposed to do when his fantasy walked right out into reality?

He was at a decidedly unfair disadvantage.

What was he supposed to do?

Normally, he would have flirted and teased her in harmless fun so that she wouldn't see how she affected him. He would have put on his cape of arrogance and said something flippant, maybe offered to help her change, and she would have rolled her eyes in exasperation. If he was lucky, she would have been just a little flustered and just a little flattered, although she would have tried to hide it.

But this was far from normal. She was wearing a towel and water droplets and nothing else and he really really wanted to unwrap her and lick all those droplets of water right off her skin. He didn't think he could hide that kind of intent behind harmless flirtation.

And he should probably stop staring at her very soon because she was now blushing from head to toe, staring at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed with discomfort.

He should look away and put her at ease. Laugh off the awkwardness. Or maybe just run the hell out of here as fast as his legs would take him and crawl behind a shrub until embarrassment was done having its way with him.

But she was _that _kind of beautiful so all he could do was stare at her, equally wide-eyed. Although, in his defence, he was at a decidedly unfair disadvantage.

Both her hands were clutching the front of her towel. It was a yellow towel. Yellow was a nice colour on her. He wondered if she had any blue towels. He really should look away. Her hair was dripping wet and a trail of water drops was snaking its way down her neck, over her collarbone and right down to the edge of her towel. He really should look away. He should. But that thin trail of water was mesmerizing. He really wanted to see exactly where it would go if she weren't wearing a towel.

If he hadn't barged into her apartment like the hounds of hell were on his tail, this would never have happened.

He stared at her hands at she clutched the towel – her knuckles were white – knowing he should apologize for banging on her apartment door and then taking the liberty of using his please-check-on-my-mail-and-water-the-plants-while-I-am-away spare key when she didn't answer. He just didn't think his apology would sound very sincere. Especially because he wasn't feeling very apologetic. After all, breaking into her place did get him a look at _that _kind of beautiful all wrapped up in a towel, wearing water droplets like some would diamonds.

He had also had a very good reason for banging on her door and using his spare key. He had thought she was in trouble. He really had. She was supposed to meet him at his place so they could go through her old cases and find out who could be leaving threatening messages on her voicemail at work and at home. She hadn't turned up, so he had been worried. Then she had called him on his cell phone and just as he had picked up, the line was cut. He had tried to call her but the signal was busy. So he had run headlong out of his apartment and rushed right to hers as fast as was humanly possible. He had yelled her name and banged on her door and she had not answered. He was about to break the door down when he remembered the spare key.

He had burst into her apartment ready to save her from whichever nefarious ex-client dared to threaten her. And then he had frozen in mid-air when he had encountered a very bewildered Sarah MacKenzie rushing out of her bedroom, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel. A yellow towel. A yellow towel she was now clutching with both hands as though her life depended on it.

He tore his gaze away from her hands, from her golden skin, her delicate collarbone, her elegant neck... His aim was to lower his gaze to his shoes and try to muster some false sincerity, but his eyes got caught on her legs. He was most definitely at a ridiculously unfair disadvantage. Even an asexual ascetic would say that she had gorgeous legs. And right now, her gorgeous legs were glistening from the light reflecting off the rivulets of water caressing her skin. He wondered what it would taste like. Just a touch of his tongue to the tip of one drop of water. Just one lick along her toned leg, along her calf and up behind her knee.

Now he most definitely was not able to run the hell out of here.

He realized that she was approaching him. No, wait. He was approaching her. His legs were slowly carrying him in the completely wrong direction. Or maybe the completely right one.

His eyes fixed onto one shimmering drop of water, perched daintily on her left shoulder. That one tantalizing droplet. He reached out a hand. Her hands tightened around her towel. He gently laid his fingers on her neck and traced the line of her collarbone up to her shoulder, stopping just before he reached that one drop of water that had captured his attention. She tensed but did not pull away. Carefully he leaned forward until he could smell the dampness on her skin. His tongue snaked out and lapped that one mesmerizing drop of water. She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, one hand coming to rest on his left shoulder to balance herself as she swayed at his touch. He put his hands on her waist, over the yellow towel.

Harm ran his lips along the line of her shoulder, absorbing the moisture. His tongue tasted her heated skin and the cool drops of water trailing over her collarbone. His warm breath against her neck made her half-sigh, half-moan with pleasure and Harm decided it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Her other hand came to rest on his shoulder. The towel loosened. Before it could fall away, Harm pulled her against him tightly, their bodies separated by his clothes and her towel and the few drops of water he was busy drinking right off her skin.

"Sarah." He mumbled into the curve of her neck. He felt her breaths, short and heavy, kiss his hair and caress his ear. "Sarah." He whispered as his lips returned to her shoulder, travelled along her collarbone, around the hollow of her throat and up her neck. "Sarah." He sucked on her earlobe. She had beautiful earlobes, he thought absently as he heard her half-sigh, half-moan again. He licked the shell of her ear and then tasted the delicate skin behind her ear. He paused in the space of a heartbeat before nuzzling further into what he decided was his favourite part of her, so far. This one small section of soft skin that smelled of languorous summers and scorching sunlight. Of snow days and the silent, uncontrollable beauty of blizzards. Of clear blue skies kissing the moist grass after a thundershower. Of the promises that led greater men to sacrifice their souls at the altars of demigods. He sighed and tightened his arms around her. She was the dreams of his childhood.

He kissed her temple, her cheek and then pulled back slightly before unerringly seeking out her lips. He splayed one hand over her lower back and cupped her chin with the other, his thumb slowly stroking her jaw as she parted her lips to deepen the kiss. He felt her tongue glide along his and was surprised he could remain standing under the sudden, visceral onslaught of desire. He felt her hands move from his shoulders, one came to rest on the nape of his neck and the other just above his heart. She had never before touched him in this way. He had never before felt her strong, delicate hands on him quite like this.

"Harm." He had definitely never before heard her, or anyone for that matter, say his name with such breathless abandon, with such unmitigated surrender.

He reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of her kiss, still holding her firmly in his embrace, trapping the towel between them. He could feel the soft curves of her body rest fully against the hard planes of his. She had to know how much she affected him, there was no way she couldn't.

It occurred to him that he had taken horrendous liberties with her in the last few minutes. By the dazed look in her eyes, he didn't think she minded. Thank god. He didn't feel particularly apologetic about it either. It also occurred to him that if he pulled back just a little bit more, it was very likely that her towel would fall away.

"Is everything okay?" she said, still attempting to catch her breath. Her voice was breathy and heavy with want. He lapped at the trail of water that was sneaking its way along her jaw. She made another very pleasant sound before repeating herself. "Are you alright?"

"What?" He asked absently, distracted by another drop that slowly dripped from her hair and along her ear.

"You…" she trailed off as he gently sucked on the skin behind her ear. She that pleasant sound again. This really was his favourite spot. So far. He had yet to taste the water that was running behind her knee and down her leg.

"You were banging…" she trailed off again as he decided to find out whether the spot behind her right ear tasted as good as the one behind her left ear. She tightened her grasp on his shoulders and leaned further into him, "…on the door."

He suddenly remembered his brave attempt at rescuing her from some unknown evildoer and, having decided that the spots behind her right ear tasted just as exquisite, he pulled back to look at her.

"You were late and then my phone…" It was very hard to focus on the conversation when she was watching him, her eyes deep with concern and darkened by desire, her skin flushed and damp, and her hair wet. He shook his head slightly to focus his thoughts, "the line got cut. I was worried about the threats…" Had her lips always been so full? He didn't think so. He needed to taste them again. So he did.

"Harm," she mumbled against his lips. He tasted his name on her tongue. "Harm. Bud found out who it was…"

He pulled back, panting. Why were they still talking? "What?"

She placed a line of kisses along his jaw. "I was calling…to tell you…they found him," she said between kisses. "I was put through…to your voicemail…The line didn't….cut." Now, she was nibbling his neck.

"That's great," he murmured in response, but she was running her fingers through his hair and he couldn't remember what they were talking about.

The kisses stopped and she pulled back to study his face, her gaze suddenly clear. He was surprised by the dizzying sense of loss he felt.

"Do you still…I mean…Is this about…ah…" She was definitely flustered, not quite flattered.

He understood her concern. He smiled gently and traced the curve of her cheek with his fingers.

"If you don't…I mean…" she trailed off, lost. Her eyes fixed on his, apprehensive and uncertain.

"I do, Sarah," the earnestness in his tone surprised him. "You're it for me." He kissed her deeply, tried to convince her of his sincerity.

She closed her eyes as if to capture his words, to savour the moment. Then she looked at him and smiled. He watched the sunlight dance around her. "You're it for me, too," she whispered.

They stared at each other for one long moment. Then her eyes dropped momentarily to his lips.

"Now that that's cleared up…" She pulled away from his embrace, laughing mischievously and he could hear the air around her sing.

Her towel fell away. He gaped as he watched her back away from him, towards her bedroom wearing nothing but her smile.

She definitely had him at a ludicrously unfair disadvantage. He grinned – fairness was incredibly overrated, anyways – and followed her.


End file.
